Make It Work
by TheArtOfLazy
Summary: In the heart of enemy territory, captured and shipped to become fodder for the Pit, Daisy hasn't had the best luck. But she has a purpose and a secret, and she'll be damned if they kill her before she gets the job done. Jemma just wants to use her knowledge to help people, but it's an uphill battle against bigotry and greed. Everything would be so much easier without that slave.
1. Chapter 1

"Get up." A kick to the gut sent Daisy rolling- albeit not very far, chained as she was. Shaking off the sleep-induced haze, she glared up at the looming figure above her. "Did you not hear me? I said, _get up_." The man- a hulking mass of muscle and leather- went in for another hit, but Daisy was ready this time, quickly twisting to the side. His foot connected with nothing, sending him stumbling forward. The man- Bear, Daisy decided she would call him- grunted in annoyance, but didn't press the matter, content to let the fact that he was free and she, chained in a cell, be victory enough. Daisy glared up at him from her spot on the floor, motionless.

"Fine then, savage. Have it your way." At this, he moved forward, leaving the cell door- how did she not notice she was in a cell?- wide open. Perfect. Daisy couldn't quite see the ring of keys Bear would undoubtedly be carrying, but it didn't matter. Once he got close enough, she'd make her move. Maybe trip him up with the chains, let gravity do the work, and see where to go from there. She grinned inwardly- see, who needed a real plan? Lincoln would call her an idiot, but if it all worked out, he'd never even have to know.

Bear was close, now. His feet stood mere inches behind her chains- why on earth they'd chain her to the ground in a cell, she didn't know. She hoped it had something to do with her intimidating image, but as beat up and ragged as she felt, an unconscious her would hardly cut an imposing figure. But instead of stepping over the chains like a normal, compliant minion, he bent down and with speed belying his hulking figure he scooped both chains up in his hands, yanking them forward with the strength of, well, a bear. Still groggy, Daisy was caught off guard by the sudden action, the chains yanking her arms and by extension the rest of her body towards the hulking man. Sprawled out on the dirt floor, she could do nothing but groan in retaliation as Bear kneeled on her back, before gracefully grabbing her hair and smashing her head into the dirt once, twice- a third time, and she was seeing stars. Grunting in satisfaction, Bear rolled the semi-conscious girl over, before unlocking the chains and throwing her over his shoulder. It seemed she had misjudged the giant. Daisy halfheartedly kicked at his stomach, for show, but she was stuck.

"You could've just asked, y'know." Daisy groaned. Bear continued to walk through the winding corridor, passing cells full of bedraggled commoners.

"When I say to get up," Bear rumbled, his voice scratchy and yet somewhat amused, "you get up."

Well then. Bear made no move to continue the conversation, and as much as Daisy wanted to ask questions, she wanted even more to ignore the giant wretch dragging her through the dungeons like some misbehaving child. Besides, her skull was still aching with the echoes of his totally excessive face-smashing. She deserved a break- some time to gather her thoughts and understand what on earth was happening. So Daisy directed her focus towards her fellow prisoners instead. The cells they passed were full of the most un-criminal lot she had ever seen. If anything, they looked like her own people, which was strange considering the fact that there was no way in hell she'd ever be imprisoned back in Terradan. Why would they be here- wherever here was. Better yet, why was she?

She thought on that for a second, genuinely confused. It didn't take long to find an answer. Who was at war with Terridan? Deshiel. Who had she been fighting? Deshiel. What was Bear's accent? Deshielan.

Her own stupidity was astounding.

But at least she wasn't as stupid as Bear and his cohorts, going on how she was being treated . Looking around, she could see recognition flash in some of her fellow prisoners eyes. For a second, Daisy imagined this looked like. Her, beaten down and bloody, being carried like a child in all it's petulant glory. She almost regretted not listening to Bear's initial commands, and complying, if only to salvage what little dignity she had left. But no- she had to play the rebel, and now here she was being paraded down the corridor, her captors unwittingly crushing what little spirit the Terradani prisoners had left. Dammit. Daisy tried to put on a cocky "I know what I'm doing, trust me" kind of smile, but from the pitying reactions she got, it must've been a sorry sight. She decided to just go for a regal, no facial expression kind of deal. It was a much safer option. Regardless, the damage was done. They knew what was happening, and who she was. She knew, of course. And yet, the Deshielans were still wholly in the dark. It was a small gift- one Daisy was intent on keeping.

It was with that new conviction that Daisy found herself thrown to the ground- okay, dropped, but with Bear's height taken into consideration, it amounted to the same thing, really.

Faster than she could follow, Bear had her hands locked up again, this time far tighter. No chains to yank, so that was a plus, but it was far from ideal.

"Go." Bear gestured towards a stairway. With no other options she could see, Daisy slowly started her way up the stairs, careful to keep her head down. She couldn't count on all of the Deshielan scum to be as oblivious as Bear seemed to be.

The stairway opened up into a forested area, with crude fences crafted out of hastily downed fences. Leave it to Deshiel to build their dungeons before they start on their actual camp. Still, it was enough to dissuade Daisy from making a run for it. There was activity everywhere- in the trees on the perimeter, there were men and women building lookout posts. Prisoners such as herself were being thrown every which way, with guards at every turn. The prison camp was in no need of manpower. Brains, of course, were another story entirely, Daisy thought. But one couldn't expect too much from these kind of people.

"Keep moving." Bear knocked the back of her head with his larger-than-humanly-possible hand, sending her stumbling forward. Biting her cheek, Daisy snuffed the rising tide of anger inside her. She wasn't a fan of turning the other cheek, as history had proven. But at the moment, words didn't seem wise. No action, no attention. She repeated it in her head, a makeshift mantra. There was more than just her own pride at stake here. So she'd just have to deal. "In there." Bear gestured to a crudely made wagon, already stuffed with captives.

"And I'll… fit?" Daisy momentarily discarded her mantra, unable to resist voicing her doubts.

"Make it work."Bear glowered at her, and shoved her forward.

"I just don't see it working, y'know?" Diay could see Bear start to get irritated, but she couldn't stop now. Full steam ahead.

"Make it work." Daisy didn't move.

"I don't know- just look, for a second. See how tiny that thing is? I mean, they hardly fit as is." Daisy watched Bear's face, grinning internally as he moved away, towards the cart without comment. She had won. Beat that, you big oaf.

"No room, huh?" He made a show of looking inside the crowded cart, before turning back to Daisy. Something was off, but she couldn't quite tell what, so she plowed ahead.

"Nope. None. Sorry."

"Well then, will you look at that," Bear grabbed one of the captives with his left hand- a girl maybe fifteen years old. "It must be your lucky day, savage-" The girl was shaking, silent tears running down her face. Daisy paled. "A spot just opened up." In one smooth, practiced motion, he drew his sword with his right hand, and drove it through the girl's stomach.

"No!" Daisy started forward, angry and terrified and entirely useless. The people in the cart closest to the girl stayed silent, watching the girl's lifeblood dain away. None of them looked at Daisy, but she could feel their silent accusations. Bear continued to hold the girl in the air, until her eyes dimmed and her last breath taken. Throwing the girl's corpse towards Daisy, he mock bowed.

"Your carriage awaits, ma'am." Daisy stood motionless, mind reeling as she took in the girl's lifeless form. "Or do you not think you'll fit."

Daisy didn't respond, choosing to instead walk towards the cart. Head down, shoulders straight, she tried as best she could to emulate her mother's grace. It almost worked, too, until Bear saw fit to trip her, and send her falling to her knees at the back of the cart. Bear gave her a little shove, further crushing the other inhabitants of the cramped device, before shutting the door behind her. No one saw fit to help her up. After several tries, she managed to get herself up with minimal scrabbling. As if on cue, the cart lurched forward, nearly knocking Daisy back to her knees. Turning back, she made eye contact with Bear one last time, and he gave her a short wave. She spat in response. Lips quirking up, Bear nodded, before walking back to the dungeon. He paused in front of the dead girl's body, before giving it a sharp kick. Daisy winced. The cart kept moving. Bear soon disappeared from view.

Quickly enough the makeshift prison camp faded from view, too, as Daisy was dragged further into the heart of the her new, special hell.

God, she was an idiot.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma was sick and tired of old men.

She was sure not all old men were horrible- it was ludicrous to think so, after all- and it wasn't only old men, either. There were some deplorable young men out there, and absolutely monstrous women. But it wasn't young men and women who continued to sideline her and her work, and it certainly wasn't a bunch of self-righteous young women who were convinced breasts somehow impeded her critical thinking. While she had admittedly encountered her fair share of young men and women preaching just about the same thing, it was old men who never failed to raise her ire. And while the heart of that issue probably came from the fact that she shared a working space with the bigoted toads, it didn't make it any less grating.

"They're supposed to be my colleagues, Fitz!" Jemma fumed, glaring at the papers in her hands.

"I know Jemma, I know. They're idiots, the lot of them. It'll just take some time, that's all. You'll get through their thick skulls soon enough." Fitz came up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, taking a deep breath.

"It's been two years, Fitz. Two years. That's more than enough time for any reasonable human being."

Fitz paused, at a loss. It was true, after all. The aging men who made up the other six members of the royal science division had had ample time to come to terms with Jemma's presence. They had no excuse- the only driving force in their continued dismissal of arguably the brightest mind in the country was sheer, stubborn bigotry. But that was hardly a reassuring statement.

"I dunno, Jems. Just- just keep working at it. Force them to see Jemma Simmons the scientist, and not Jemma Simmons the girl." He offered.

Jemma looked up from her papers, as Fitz shifted towards the door. "But I'm both. Why they can't accept that is beyond me." She fumed. "Look at this- look at what they did, Fitz!" She threw down the stack of documents onto his desk. "I go to them with a proposal-"

"-A brilliant one-" Fitz interjected.

"Yes! A brilliant proposal, with more than enough evidence, and a hell of a lot of need, and yet they give me this!"

Fitz glanced down at the pages long enough to get the gist of their content. "Is this… is this that slave enhancement idea Radcliffe was talking about?"

"Yes!" Jemma exploded. "I wanted to tackle the very real issue of contaminated drinking water in the lower sectors, and they put me on slave duty!"

"Jems, this is big- it's revolutionary." Fitz gestured excitedly. "This could be your ticket out, see? You blow them away with this, and they have no choice but to give you free reign of your next job. You know how the Emperor is with the pit fights! Enhance those, and he'll give you anything you ask."

"I don't want to enhance those barbaric rituals, Fitz. I don't want to touch them." Jemma retorted, somewhat defeatedly. She knew as well as Fitz did that this was her only option, if she wanted to get anywhere.

"I know, Jemma. But you don't have much choice." Fitz shrugged helplessly.

"Yes, I had started to get that impression." Jemma muttered darkly. Fitz looked up, somewhat surprised at the tone. "Let's not talk about that business anymore- how's your work with Radcliffe going? I've heard rumours, but-" Fitz brightened up at the change in topic.

"-It's amazing! We've been looking into some armour designs, and Jemma you wouldn't believe the flaws they've got. It's like we want our soldiers to get killed! But Radcliffe's got an idea- I can't say what, yet, in case it doesn't pan out- but it's incredible. Game changing, even." While Fitz rambled on about new findings and ideas, and worshipped Radcliffe, Jemma found herself drifting off in thought. Who would've thought she'd be here, now.

Two years ago, she'd broken ground- broken a lot of things, actually. She'd done the impossible. Gotten into the royal science division- a position widely regarded as only attainable for pruny men with decades of brownnosing behind them. She had fought tooth and nail for this position- far harder than her fellow colleagues, certainly. And when she had won, when she had been indoctrinated and sworn in, and given a seat at the table, she had thought things would finally be over. There would be no more fighting. No more need to prove her worth- after all, she'd be a scientist of the royal court. What more proof did she need?

She had been naive. Stupidly so. And now she was paying the price for her laxity. Denied at every turn, forced to work on slaves in a fool's-errand quest to enhance them? They were setting her up to fail, that much was clear. And two years ago, Jemma would have trusted them. She would've fought back silently, letting her work speak for itself. Thinking her success could somehow make them see the error of their ways. And for two years, Jemma had done exactly that. She'd played the quiet revolutionary, again and again and again. But that didn't seem to cut it, if her present situation was any indication. Jemma was done with silence, and humbleness- done with her silent clapbacks at these men and their prejudice. Maybe it was time to be loud. Time to finally put these pricks in their place. Yes, maybe it was time for a change in strategy.

Jemma grinned to herself, already forming a plan of attack. First things first, she had a house call to make.

"..and if we can somehow get the bracings on the arm to tighten on impact, we could finally get the… get the.. Jemma? Jemma, where are you going?" Fitz broke out of his rambling as Jemma turned towards the door, avoiding the piles of papers and discarded prototypes that had become standard fare in his cramped apartment.

"Sorry, Fit- I just remembered, I've got to speak to Cassius. Your work with Radcliffe does sound quite interesting, though- you'll have to fill me in some other time!"

"Were you even listening, Jemma? J- Jemma!?" But Jemma was gone, already planning phase one of her assault on the old farts who saw fit to hobble her at every academic turn.

/Line Break/

"Excuse me, is Cassius in at the moment?"

Jemma was already regretting her decisions. Why on earth she'd ever thought taking on the establishment was a good idea, she didn't know. But somewhere between Fitz's apartment and Cassius's mansion, the passion of the moment had drained away, leaving only a mildly irate and extremely nervous Jemma in it's wake. But she had continued on towards Cassius's house, and it was far too late to turn back now.

"Um, well…" The poor servant who'd answered the door was caught off guard by the appearance of a lone 'Lady' Jemma at so late an hour. At another time, Jemma might've tried a friendly smile, or had some modicum of patience, but she was spending enough effort trying to keep her feet from running away. Her patience was not at it's usual peak.

"Is he or is he not here." Jemma had no time for stumblings. The longer she stood out here, the less of a reason she saw to go in, and do what she came to do.

"H- he's here, my lady." Was it just her, or was the servant at the door shaking? Jemma winced inwardly in sympathy, but continued pressing the man.

"Perfect. I need to speak to him, so if you'll lead the way…" She trailed off, hoping he'd take the hint.

"O- of course, Lady. Follow me." And with that, she was in. Jemma hadn't decided whether that was a good thing or not, yet.

Cassius Albus had extravagant, of somewhat tacky, tastes. While Jemma had never dared make a house call before, and Cassius had never invited her either, for obvious reasons- after all, one would have to have some small measure of respect for another, to do that- it was exactly as she would have suspected. Gold and silver items were displayed everywhere, at random intervals. The servants and slaves alike were dressed in fine, if somewhat out of style linens, and Cassius had placed his war memorabilia, from years gone by, in the most confusing places. The man had no sense of style, but he did love to put on a good show.

The servant from the door led Jemma through the foyer, and past a massive, taxidermy grizzly. The bear glared down at her from it's frozen perch, and once more Jemma felt a surge of pity for the inhabitants of Cassius's manor. In what world that monstrosity was tasteful, she couldn't say, but it did nothing to endear the man to her.

"Right this way, Lady." The servant gestured to an open door, leading to a backyard of sorts. Jemma walked forward, everything in her telling her to run. The servant followed from behind, unnervingly silent.

The open backyard was less garish- it was rather hard to mess up the earth's natural beauty, Jemma thought. Sitting underneath a tree, on a strange chair of gold and wood, surrounded by books and torches, was Cassius himself. Judging from the his open mouth and overall shocked expression, she was the last person he expected to see tonight. Or any night. But it was hardly her fault she came so late- he was the one who insisted on having afternoon and evening meetings, after all. Had he acted at all like a normal person, she would have been able to come and make this particular mistake far earlier in the day. Not that she was bitter, or anything.

"Lady Simmons." Cassius recovered from his shock quickly enough, before sending a glare towards the servant who had led Jemma here- Jemma had completely forgotten of his presence, but from the look on Cassius's face, he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon. "You are dismissed, Cato. Leave us." The servant, Cato, was gone before Cassius even finished the sentence. Poor man, Jemma thought. She knew from experience that working with- or under- Cassius was hardly pleasant.

"Hello, Lord Albus. I apologize for the time, and the unexpected visit. I wanted to discuss the matter of slave enhancement with you."

Cassius was not a young man by any means. Heavy eyebrows, a small mouth and beady eyes gave him the look of a perpetually affronted mole. His face was lined and creased over with such an abundance of wrinkles, Fitz had once said he looked like a poorly done origami face- the kind traders from the east would sometimes bring over with them on their journeys. But now, even though his age was as apparent as the sun, his smug expression gave him a sort of petulant youthful glow. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Slave enhancement? Have you come to sway my mind again? Because I am not the only one who feels you'd best be suited for it- and even if I were, this is not the way to sway any man's mind, my dear."

His comments only ignited the dying spark that had sent her here in the first place. "My dear"? The man deserved to be put in his place.

"No, Cassius," the man in question looked surprised at the informality. Serves him right, Jemma thought. "I've come to discuss it, as I said before."

"Surely even a prodigy such as yourself hasn't progressed so far, in so short a time, that you need to discuss matters with myself." Cassius threw out prodigy like a weapon. There was a time where Jemma would've humbly disputed the claim, but not today. Today, she had come for blood. And she was starting to remember why.

"No, I haven't begun quite yet. I came to warn you." Jemma schooled her features into that of an innocent girl, all while drawing on the indignation of suffering through this man and his cohorts games for two years.

"Warn me of what, exactly?" Cassius shut the book in his lap, giving her his full, patronizing attention.

"I have worked side by side with you for two years. I'm your academic equal in almost every way- and I have not asked for anything. Nothing." At this, Jemma stepped forward, carried away by the cathartic release of years of pent up anger. "I dealt with it because I thought you would see, one day, that you were wrong. That you would come to respect me, or at the very least stop curtailing me at every turn. And yet it's been two years, and I have seen no real change. None." Cassius looked on, unaffected.

"And what does this have to do with the slave enhancement?"

"I know you're setting me up to fail, Cassius. And I know that you will never change your views- not now, and not you. So I came to give you fair warning. I will not only succeed with the slave enhancements- I will create something so- so revolutionary that the Emperor himself publicly recognizes my achievements. And once I finish with the enhancements, I will come for you. I am done with your sub-human treatment of me, Cassius." Jemma felt heat rise to her face, could feel her heart beating wildly out of control. She had done it. She had said what she had come to say. And while she felt a slight sense of emptiness, now, having voiced that particular sentiment, she felt a larger sense of 'oh shit'. What had she done?

Cassius didn't say anything at first, looking on impassively as Jemma started to come down from her anger-high. After waiting a minute, his mouth quirked upwards the slightest bit.

"I must say, I didn't expect that from you. I suppose I misjudged your character, Jemma." Jemma scoffed at that. "Do whatever you feel you must. These fantasies you play out in your head, they're harmless. I won't condemn you for them." Fantasies? What fantasies? "But a word of caution, Jemma, in return for your.. Warning. Don't let yourself be carried away by these games. Your position is one of honour and respect- maybe not as much as you feel you deserve, but that's the way the world works. Don't throw away what you've been given in pursuit of your misguided ideals." Cassius reopened his book, the meaning clear. From seemingly out of thin air, Cato the servant appeared beside Jemma, and she let him lead her away.

"Goodnight, Lady Simmons. It's been a pleasure. I trust you'll take my words to heart?" Jemma didn't look back.

"Goodnight, Lord Albus. I'll be sure to think on them. And I hope you'll take mine into account." With that, Jemma left the backyard, as Cato led her through the manor once more. Everything was a blur as Jemma's more logical side finally caught up to her. She felt faint- what was she thinking? Going to Cassius's house? At night? She was a fool. Cato looked back at her questioningly, and Jemma threw on what she hoped was a graceful smile. At this point, she really could care less what some servant thought, but it was always good to keep up appearances.

Once outside, finally saved from the stifling presence of Cassius's servants and grossly tacky decor, allowed herself a shaky breath.

There really was no going back now.

Mindlessly walking through the streets, she found herself heading in the direction of Fitz's apartment once more. But should she go there, he would undoubtedly realize something was off, and she would never be able to withhold the night's events. So she pointed herself in the direction of her own modest home, at the edge of the upper district. It wasn't that she didn't want Fitz to know, or that she wanted to lie. No, she just couldn't handle the countless questions he'd be sure to hurl her way. She needed a nice, quiet break. And besides, Fitz would die of shock. Better to spare them both, before breaking the news.

Walking down the near-empty streets, passing only the occasional guards and lovers, Jemma looked to the night sky and sighed, the full weight of her actions crashing down on her.

God, she was an idiot.


End file.
